


Rule of Rosethorn

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Series: SMACKDOWN '11 Round Two - Team Discipline [6]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/F, Goldenlake, smackdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have rules,” Rosethorn stated, sitting across from Lark at the Discipline kitchen table. “Rules for relationships.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule of Rosethorn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SMACKDOWN at Goldenlake: fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com

            “I have rules,” Rosethorn stated, sitting across from Lark at the kitchen table of Discipline Cottage. “Rules for relationships.”

            “You have relationship rules,” Lark confirmed, undaunted. A loose smile was already forming at her lips—she loved a serious Rosethorn, though she couldn’t always take the persona as soberly as Rosethorn would have wished it.

            “Relationship rules.” The woman nodded, appreciative of the term. “They’re simple: listen to me, don’t tell me what to do, don’t embarrass me, be honest, don’t tell me what I want to hear unless it’s what you want to say, don’t like me _all_ the time, like me _most_ of the time, and your body is mine whenever I want it.” She paused, a perverse grin spreading over her exquisitely-carved mouth. “Which will be often.” She paused again. “But only when you want it too. Do you object?”

            Lark wondered what sort of fool would object. She propped her hand against her grin, elbow up on the table as she leaned toward Rosethorn.

            “I don’t object,” she answered. Her eyebrow rose. “Did Crane obey these rules?”

            Rosethorn barked out her laughter. “And now we see the problem. Aristocrats don’t do well with rules that aren’t self-imposed.”

            Lark quirked a smile and reached to smooth one spiked tuft of hair atop Rosethorn’s forehead. “What makes you think acrobats are any _better?_ ”

            “Because,” Rosie responded as she snatched the woman’s arm at the wrist and cradled her palm, tracing patterns in the creased skin, “aristocrats and acrobats are about as opposite as they come.”

            “Surely you don’t give him enough credit. Besides, surprising similarities may be found in extremes.” Lark shivered at the contact and watched her hand. When her companion did not reply, Lark gazed up, straight-faced and affecting the same seriousness with which Rosethorn had commenced their conversation. “Do you know my one relationship rule?”

            “No. Enlighten me.”

            Lark leaned across the table—over her and Rosethorn’s linked hands—and kissed the surprised woman, nuzzling her nose and whispering into her cheek, “Never to have rules.” She sat back and took in Rosethorn’s features—slightly concerned, but attempting to cover it up with suspicion—and laughed through a blossoming smile. “Thankfully you’re in luck: your rules are the traits I afford all those I respect.”

            She paused as Rosethorn’s eyebrows drew steadily higher. Lark glanced from Rosie’s face to her torso, hands, and face again; at last the weaver chuckled. “Save the last one. I save select delicacies for those I respect and wish to _ravish_.”

            “I am a great fan of ravishing,” Rosethorn confessed through a crooked smile.

            Lark smiled and leaned back without pulling her hand away. She snapped her other fingers. “Then we have it! I will allow myself one rule, which will sum up yours: respectfully and regularly ravish Rosie.” She placed her index and middle fingers on either side of her lips for only a second, but the libidinous street sign brought a blush to Rosethorn’s cheeks despite its swiftness. “What do you think?”

            “For a free entity, you seem to have a knack for declaring rules. I think we should put this rule to practise.”

            “Do you now? Well, according to my new decree, your wish is my command.”

            Rosethorn pulled Lark up by their linked hands and watched the woman intently—somehow as unbelieving of her existence as she would be of a Narmonese flower-breathing dragon’s. “Are you _sure_ there’s nothing I should abide with you?”

            Lark kissed her again. “Be yourself. Like me. Someday, love me—but no rush, we can be grey-haired and wrinkled then.”

            “Like Lark,” Rosethorn repeated, one arm wrapping around Lark at the small of her back. “Love Lark, someday. I can do that, as myself. Especially with regular ravishing.”

            “Isn’t _someone_ a potted plant in relationships? ‘Regular watering, south-facing window, weekly pruning in summer months, regular ravishing…’”

            Rosethorn swatted the woman’s arm and squeezed her hip, but couldn’t contain her laughter. “Two rounds for that. I am a mighty oak.”

            “Yes Rosie. I see I needn’t embarrass you at all, you accomplish that your—”

            “Three. Shush up now, or I’ll declare you a glutton for punishment.”

            Lark’s gleefully glinting eyes spoke wonders, but her lips spoke not a word—at least, no more intelligible words. And thus the Rule of Rosethorn reigned.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! (:


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